


Stories from the Tramline

by besanii



Series: tennis!verse [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Multi, Prince of Tennis AU, Tennis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:18:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besanii/pseuds/besanii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Les Amis are a nationally ranked high school tennis team.  A Prince of Tennis AU.</p><p>A collection of short side stories that accompany <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/935959">Tramlines</a>.  Not in chronological order, just snippets of their lives on and off the courts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which the gang discovers Grantaire works at Starbucks

**Author's Note:**

> These have previously been posted on Tumblr, I'm just transferring them over here :)

“Welcome to Starbucks!  May I take –”

 “ _Grantaire_?”

 Grantaire stops in the middle of his sentence, a growing horror dawns on his face as he recognises who has just walked up to the register.

 “Oh fuck no.”

 The girl at the espresso bar glances over disapprovingly at the curse, but he couldn’t care less.  He briefly wonders if it’s too late to hide out back when Courfeyrac all but shoves Combeferre out of the way and _bounces_  on the spot, a wide grin splitting his face.

 “You work at  _Starbucks_?” 

 “Not out of choice,” he grits out, flushing with embarrassment.

 “How did you manage to get  _permission_?”

 They all know the school’s strict policy on students getting part-time jobs.  In short, they can’t.  The last time someone got caught working without permission, during semester, they were suspended, parents got involved and it all escalated very quickly.  There were always exceptions, though, for those students in extenuating circumstances in which they were  _required_  to have a job.

Grantaire scratches his head.

“Just…stuff, okay?” he sighs.  “It’s a long story.  One you will  _not_  hear.”

 He catches his manager’s pointed look from the corner of his eye and clears his throat.

 “What can I get you?”

 They clamour to order and Grantaire dutifully marks the customisations on the cardboard sleeves. Combeferre orders a Tall latte.  Jehan asks for a Tall skim no whip mocha for Feuilly and a Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino for himself, with extra cream.  Eponine orders her usual soy green tea latte while Joly flounders around a bit before deciding on a black tea.  Grantaire punches all of these into the system – including Courfeyrac’s sugar-loaded concoction (a Venti 8-pump Caramel Macchiato with extra whipped cream, caramel drizzle and vanilla powder on top) – before turning to the last member of the group.

 “A double espresso please,” Enjolras tells him before he can even open his mouth.  His lips are pressed in a firm line, giving away his displeasure despite the politeness of his words.

 Grantaire takes their money and waves them over to the bar, where the girl begins to prepare the drinks, occasionally directing coy looks in Enjolras and Courfeyrac’s direction.  The latter winks at her when she hands him his diabetes-inducing monstrosity and she blushes.  Grantaire knows she’s wishing she had written her number on the cup and snorts derisively.

 They settle in the secluded corner by the stairs, closest to the bar, commandeering all three tables and six of the large, squishy armchairs.  Grantaire sighs and turns around to empty out the old batch of brewed coffee when the timer beeps.  The girl at the bar drums her fingers on the espresso machine distractedly, before announcing that was going to bus the tables.  He knows she’s only doing it so she can get close to his friends, who will ignore her, he was also sure.

 About an hour later, his manager tells him to go on his half.

 He takes off the bright green apron, rolls it up and sticks it into his pocket before he joins his friends.  They welcome him with a chorus of cheers.

 “Aw, why’d you take the apron off?” Courfeyrac coos in mock disappointment.  “It looks so good on you!”

 Grantaire raises his hand to flip him off but decides against it when he sees his manager stealing glances in their direction.  Combeferre pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and gives Grantaire A Look to rival Enjolras’ aptly dubbed ‘Captain Face’.

 “So, how come you got a job?”

 Everyone is interested at this point and they turn to look expectantly at Grantaire, who curses.  Eponine, who already knows the reason, raises her cup to her lips and remains silent.  He doesn’t want to lie to them.

 “My deadbeat father lost his job, so he’s stopped paying child support.  Mum’s salary isn’t enough to support us  _and_  pay for tuition, so I applied for permission to work.”

 For a moment, they’re silent.  Grantaire is almost irritated at the faintest hints of sympathy and pity that creeps into some of their expressions, but his friends know him well enough to curtail those instinctive responses. Eponine still hasn’t lowered the drink from her lips, but her brows furrow and she’s gazing determinedly at the lid of her cup.

 It’s Courfeyrac who breaks the awkward silence.

 “Does this mean we get free coffee?”

 Grantaire shoves him and he topples over onto Combeferre.

 “No,” he says shortly.  “Especially not if you insist on drinking  _that_.”

 The atmosphere returns to normal and they banter and laugh for the rest of his break.  He reluctantly returns to work and they prepare to leave.

 “I guess I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow.”

 “See ya, Grantaire!”

 “Bye!”

 He’s waving at them, pulling the apron on and fumbling with the strings when a soft touch on his elbow draws his attention away.  Enjolras is looking at him with a serious expression on his face.

 “Enjolras?” Grantaire asks, momentarily confused when his captain doesn’t speak.

 “I hope…” Enjolras begins hesitantly.  Grantaire can almost see him give himself a mental shake before he continues, voice clearer.  “I hope this doesn’t affect your attendance, especially at Student Council and at practice.”

Grantaire chuckles.

“I can’t promise anything,” he tells him honestly.  “But I will try.”

He is awarded with a warm smile from Enjolras, a murmured goodbye and returns to his shift feeling happier than he has in days.


	2. First day of school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Eponine finds out Grantaire has joined the tennis team and meets Marius…in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set about two years before [Tramlines](http://archiveofourown.org/works/935959). Eponine and Marius are in the year below the others, so are in their final year of middle school here (the others are in their first year of high school).
> 
> The school system is based on Japan (middle school and high school are both three years each). The middle school is affiliated with Amis' high school and is located right next door.

Grantaire doesn’t like sports.  He doesn’t really like sweating, or being outdoors, and he just generally doesn’t enjoy exerting himself.  Eponine knows this to be true – they’ve both skipped out on gym classes religiously since third grade – so she finds it nothing short of ludicrous when he tells her he’s joined the school’s Tennis Club.

“Why the hell would you do that?” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth.  “Are you acting out or something?”

“No,” he growls, slapping the hand she has reaching to check his forehead for signs of a fever away.  “It seemed the best out of all the clubs at orientation.”

If there’s something else Eponine is sure of, it’s that Grantaire does not participate in extracurricular activities.  They’re the ones who sit at the back of the assembly mocking those who receive awards for outstanding achievements and participation.  She has no idea why he decides to suddenly _participate in a school club_  that involves  _sport_ , of all things.

“Did the school finally dissolve the Fine Arts Club, then?” she asks, still bewildered when he shakes his head.  “Are the Photography Club guys  _that_  weird? Oh god, did Montparnasse try to recruit you into his wannabe b-boy club and this is just some sort of coping mechanism for the trauma?”

“Look, ‘Ponine, it’s none of those things,” he tells her impatiently.  “I just wanted to try something different.”

She still thinks that he’s trying to act out in a fit of teenage rebellion and is in the process of telling him so when a cheerful voice interrupts them.  It’s Courfeyrac, accompanied by Combeferre and Enjolras, and he launches himself at Grantaire.  He’s grinning widely, arms wrapped around Grantaire’s torso from behind.  Combeferre sighs and shakes his head in exasperated amusement, while Enjolras just nods briefly at Eponine in greeting.

“Grantaire,” Courfeyrac says in a sing-song voice.  “R~!  So glad you decided to join the team!  We’ll all make the regulars together!”

 “First years aren’t allowed to participate in the ranking matches,” Combeferre reminds him.

Courfeyrac responds to that by sticking out his tongue.

 “I’m sure they’ll make an exception when they see how good we are,” he says confidently. “Especially since Enjolras is also joining!”

Eponine raises an eyebrow at this and shoots Grantaire a pointed look.  He looks decidedly uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other and avoiding her gaze.  If she didn’t know him half as well as she does, she may have missed the way his ears turn pink.  The others definitely do not notice and she decides to spare him the embarrassment. 

 _So that’s how it is_.

She’s always known Grantaire was gay, even if he doesn’t advertise it as much as Courfeyrac does.  But this is a new development, even for him.  She wonders what on earth happened during the summer that could have possibly caused all of this.  She decides to find out.

“I didn’t know you could play tennis, R,” she says, trying to join the conversation.  “Since when did you like sports?”

“We taught him!” Courfeyrac answers brightly.  Even Enjolras is smiling and the flush is  _definitely_ spreading to Grantaire’s neck now.  “Over the summer!” 

“He’s very good,” Enjolras supplies.  He looks pleased.  “I’m glad you decided to join, Grantaire.  It’s definitely going to be fun.” 

Eponine resists the urge to comment on the likelihood of Enjolras knowing the definition of ‘fun’.  She’s more surprised that he says Grantaire is  _good_  at tennis.  He’s never exhibited any prior inclinations to excellence in more physical pursuits before.  She tells them this and is amused by how embarrassed Grantaire is becoming.

“It’s because he’s finally taking something seriously,” Combeferre comments, adjusting his glasses. 

Enjolras nods in agreement. 

“We have practice after school today,” he tells Eponine. “You should come along to watch.  The first years get to play practice matches against the unranked second and third years at the first practice of the year – it’s tradition.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun actually,” she replies.  Grantaire glares at her from where he is being smothered by Courfeyrac.  “I’ll be there.”

The bell rings to signal the beginning of class and Courfeyrac drags Grantaire to their classroom, while Combeferre and Enjolras excuse themselves to go to theirs.  Eponine, being a year younger than the rest of them in her final year of junior high, decides to skip her first class of the day, even if her adjoining school is just beyond the fence not one hundred metres away.

 _Tennis Club, huh_. 

She’s climbed onto an overhead branch of a tree, settling down to take a nap, when there’s pounding footsteps.  Thinking that it might be a teacher, she sits bolt upright and draws herself into a tiny ball to try and hide from prying eyes.  But it’s not a teacher.  Her eyes widen as the newcomer stops almost directly under her branch, holding her breath in case he should discover her.

It’s the handsomest boy she’s ever seen. 

He’s got a big tennis bag thrown over one shoulder and he’s wearing her school’s uniform, but he must be new because she’s never seen him around before (and everyone knows Eponine knows everyone).  He glances around looking lost and scratches his head in confusion.  She speaks up because he looks harmless enough.

“Hey, you there.”

He doesn’t see her at first and jumps a metre in the air when she drops down to the ground beside him.  She gives him a wide smile.

“Hey there.  You look lost.”

“Oh – um, hi,” he stammers, a little wide-eyed.  “I didn’t see – I mean, yeah, I  _am_  kinda lost.  It’s my first day here.”

She barely reaches his shoulder, Eponine notes in satisfaction.   _That’s good_.  She’s always liked her men tall.  She nods at his bag.

“You planning on joining the tennis club?”

His expression brightens. 

“Yeah, I am!  I transferred here because it has the best tennis team in the state!  Grandfather thinks I’m wasting my time, but I really want to play professionally when I leave school and – I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” 

She shakes her head quickly.  On the inside, she’s wondering how on earth someone so good looking could be so –  _cute_.  She tugs at the cuff of her jacket sleeve and bites her lip, trying to curb those thoughts.  He scratches his head in embarrassment and confesses that he’s actually trying to find his classroom.

“Which class are you in?” 

“Um…” he produces a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and squints at it.  “3-8?”

“Oh goodie, the class next to mine,” she tells him.  She hopes her tone comes out chill and sarcastic, but his answering grin tells her there’s no hope for that.  “Come on, I’ll show you where it is, newbie.”

“Marius.”

“Hm?”  She raises a questioning eyebrow.  Then flushes.  “Oh.  Sorry.  Eponine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eponine.” 

She likes the way her name sounds from his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://besanii.tumblr.com)


	3. Gavroche visits Grantaire at work.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on from Chapter One. Grantaire works at Starbucks and Gavroches pays him a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an old drabble I wrote on Tumblr last year and I'm just moving it onto AO3 :)
> 
> There are a couple more [here](http://besanii.tumblr.com/post/41097657158/the-tennis-verse-collection) if you'd like to check them out. They'll all eventually be moved onto AO3 in due time.

“R~!  I want a drink!”

Grantaire sighs as a familiar crop of curls pulls itself over the counter and Gavroche’s face comes into view, propped up on his elbows with a wide grin.  He doesn’t bat an eyelash as he places an already cooling cup in front of the boy, who glances at it and wrinkles his nose.

“What is  _that_?”

“A babyccino,” Grantaire says shortly. 

“It’s got no coffee in it!”

“You’re nine.  You shouldn’t be drinking coffee.”  He reaches over and drops something in the cup.  “Here, have a marshmallow – on me.”

Gavroche glares at him before grabbing a spoon from the container on the counter and spearing the marshmallow with unnecessary vigour.  When Grantaire doesn’t look up from the line of drinks ready to be made before him, the boy unscrews the lid of the chocolate powder shaker and upends it into his cup, replacing it quickly on the counter before Grantaire looks up to hand off the next drink.

“Why’re you here, Gav?” Grantaire asks.  “Where’s your sister?”

“Marius needed help picking out something to wear to his cousin’s wedding, so they went  _shopping_.”  The tone of his voice indicates the boy’s disdain for that particular activity, which makes Grantaire grin.

“And you didn’t go with them, why?”

“Watch her make eyes at him all day?  Ew, no.”

He takes a sip of his drink and makes another face.  Without even blinking, Grantaire tips another dash of freshly steamed milk into the cup and drops a stirrer into it.

“You’re not going to melt all that chocolate with that amount of milk,” he tells him.  Gavroche opens his mouth to deny it, but Grantaire raises his eyebrows. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the chocolate shaker is empty, Gav.  Now stir and drink.”

He thinks the boy, who he had known since he was a baby, doesn’t notice the way his hands are shaking slightly as he pours milk into the steaming pitcher or setting the drink on the hand-off plane.  But Gavroche is observant.  And he’s grown up with a family of people who are regular drunkards.  So he knows.  But he doesn’t say anything, because he likes Grantaire – Grantaire watches out for him, knows what he’s doing and Grantaire is always right.  Gavroche trusts him.

“I wish it was you, R,” he tells the older boy solemnly.

Grantaire’s eyes flicker over to him briefly and he gives him a small smile.

“Why would you wish that, Gav?  I’m no different from the people your family hangs around – I’m certainly no better.”

“You  _are_  better!” Gavroches says fiercely.  “You’re the best!”

Grantaire tuts at him.  But he’s grinning.

“Just because I give you free drinks when you come visit me at work doesn’t make me the best.  But thank you for the sentiment, Gav.”

But Grantaire doesn’t  _get_  it.  Grantaire thinks he’s only being nice, but Gavroche is serious.  He wishes it was Grantaire who Eponine was in love with – because, nice as Marius is, his sister becomes a different person when he’s around and Gavroche isn’t sure that’s supposed to be a good thing.  Grantaire’s known them both for ages, practically family and Eponine doesn’t sit in her room and cry for hours because of Grantaire.

He tries to tell Grantaire this, but it only makes Grantaire’s smile sad.

“Crying because of someone sometimes means they’re very special,” he says softly.  “Because you let them into your heart and trust them with your feelings.”

As he talks, his expression becomes distant and wistful.  It’s the same expression Eponine gets when she talks about Marius.  Gavroche hates that look because it makes him sad.  He knocks back the rest of his babyccino in one long gulp, imitating the way his father does it at home, which makes Grantaire frown.

“It’s not a beer, kid, don’t drink it like one.”  He turns to rinse the milk pitchers. “You’re a smart kid, Gav, talking like a grown-up already about protecting people’s feelings.”

“Not people,” Gavroche corrects, “just my sister.”

“Just Eponine then,” Grantaire agrees readily.  He folds his arms and leans onto the counter in front of Gavroche.  “We can’t tell her what to do with her life, Gav.  She makes her own choices.  But we  _can_ look out for her together.  Will you do that with me, Gav?”

“That’s being silly, R,” Gavroche laughs.  “She’s my sister.  Of course I will!”

He yelps when Grantaire ruffles his hair.

“Atta boy.  She’s lucky to have a brother like you.  Now scat and leave me to my work.  I’m a busy man, you know.”

He turns away from the counter and pretends to busy himself with the machines as Gavroche hops off the stool and runs out the door.  When the boy disappears from view, he raps a hand on the counter nearest to the tables under the stairs.  Courfeyrac comes into view from his hidden spot, looking sheepish.

“Eavesdropping is a bad habit to pick up, Courf,” Grantaire tells him.

“Yeah, well, I was going to make myself known at first, but the kid looked like he wanted some alone time with you.”  He takes the seat Gavroche had just vacated.  “He looks up to you a lot.”

“Mm, well, I’ve known him the longest out of all of us, I guess.”  Grantaire shrugs.  “He comes to me with problems about ‘Ponine, mainly.  I’m pretty sure he runs to you for everything else.”

“There’s not much else, at his age,” Courfeyrac replies with a smile.  “Thank god.”

“Yeah.  Imagine if he came to you with girl problems.”

They laugh, mainly because Gavroche acts like he’s allergic to all girls except Eponine.  Courfeyrac claps his hands together and rubs them eagerly.

“Now, how about a drink?”

Grantaire wordlessly puts a cup in front of him.  Courfeyrac scowls.

“I’m not  _nine_ , R.  Give me something with coffee in it.”

“Too bad.  If you want to scab free stuff, this is the only thing I’m going to give you.”  He flaps a dismissive hand at him.  “Drink up, or pay up.” 

“Asshole.”

“Right back atcha.”  He cocks his head to one side as a thought occurs to him.  “Aren’t you supposed to be at tennis practice?”

“Uh… _hello_ , Grantaire, we have the city tournaments tomorrow.  Enjolras let us go early so we get proper rest.”  A grin spreads over his face.  “He’ll be here soon, you know.  Just as soon as he and Combeferre finish up with the final preparations for the cultural festival – I gave them about an hour and a half, so that should be soon.”

Grantaire glares at him and wishes he had a drink stronger than caffeine available to him right now, but Courfeyrac’s sitting in front of him and he’s at work.  Courfeyrac’s grin only gets wider and he taps his watch and downs the babyccino in one go.  Almost on cue, Enjolras is entering the establishment, his tennis bag over one shoulder and a thick folder under the other.  Courfeyrac waves him over and he smiles.

“Hey, Courf, not going home yet?” he asks as a way of greeting.  He drops the tennis bag onto the floor and the folder on the counter with loud  _thuds_  and takes a seat at the counter next to Courfeyrac.  “R, I have something to run by you.”

Grantaire passes him a drink, the contents of which are suspiciously (at least, to Courfeyrac, who smirks) hidden by a lid.  Enjolras thanks him with a smile and takes a sip, not noticing the way Grantaire is now glaring at Courfeyrac.

 “Well, you guys have fun then, I’m out.”  Courfeyrac grabs his bag and throws his paper cup in the bin on his way out.  “See you tomorrow!”

 Enjolras waves absently at him before turning his attention back to Grantaire.

“The city tournaments are tomorrow,” he says.  “You should come watch.  The team would appreciate it, since you helped get us to this point.”

Grantaire shrugs, but there’s a curious warming in his heart.

“I’ll see if I can get someone to swap shifts with me,” he replies.  The smile Enjolras bestows upon him almost takes his breath away.  He clears his throat.  “Now, you had something to run by me?”

“Oh, right.  It’s about the idea you pitched for the cultural festival…” 

As he watched Enjolras start talking animatedly about his ideas and plans, Grantaire is alerted to a text message by his phone buzzing in his pocket.  He reaches for it subtly, eyes never leaving Enjolras (not that he would notice, especially not when on his tangents) and glances down to read the message.

_What you said to Gavroche before.  
Just want to let you know that it applies to you too._

_-C._

He smiles and tucks the phone back into his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The age gap between Gavroche and the other Amis is noticeably smaller. Because it wouldn’t work any other way, since they’re in high school and Gav needs to be somewhat mature enough to hold an intelligent conversation.
> 
> 2\. Courfeyrac and Gavroche are supposed to be closer in terms of relationship originally, but I made Grantaire and Eponine childhood friends in this tennis!verse, so they’re closer in this.
> 
> 3\. Courfeyrac knows and likes to tease Grantaire about it, but he won’t step over the line because he wants to protect Grantaire like the way Grantaire protects Eponine and Gavroche.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt the need for a Prince of Tennis AU. So I wrote my own.
> 
> There will be more tennis in later parts, I think. We'll see ;)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://besanii.tumblr.com/)


End file.
